


Ink My Skin (With Your Name)

by reliablyimperfect



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Blood, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, No Smut, Self-Harm, butterfly project, further explanation can be found in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliablyimperfect/pseuds/reliablyimperfect
Summary: In the light of the afternoon, Louis almost instantly honed in on the new assortment of butterflies on Harry’s arm. The butterfly that Louis himself had drawn remained alone on his right arm, but it was nearly completely faded. However, there were newer, darker ones on the opposite arm. Louis didn’t comment on them until they were back in his room, feet muddy and still wet from the creek.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 41





	Ink My Skin (With Your Name)

**Author's Note:**

> The self-harm is mostly implied, but there is a scene at the end that takes place after, and the other cleans and bandages them up. DM me @mmmm_kat on Twitter if you have any questions. Remember to keep yourself safe, and don't read if you're unsure.  
> Edited by me. Any and all mistakes are my own. Blah blah blah.

The sun shining down heated Louis’ skin in spite of the partial shade he was in. Chatter filtered closer as a few students walked towards him, but he didn’t pay them any mind, keeping his eyes out for a familiar head of curls. Nearly immediately, Louis spotted him. A smile was on the boy’s face as he walked closer, an excited spring in his step.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry greeted as Louis pulled himself to his feet. After a yawn brought on by the sun-induced warmth, Louis returned the greeting, and tugged the boy into his chest. Harry went easily, melting into his arms, and they stood there for a few moments, enjoying each other. When Louis let go, he nodded his head in the direction of the road, and they fell in step beside each other to begin their walk.

It was Friday, and their usual routine was to grab an ice cream cone to enjoy on the walk back to Harry’s house. They’d been best friends for years before slowly morphing into _more_. Only last year had Harry confessed his feeling, and they’d been together ever since. When Louis, who was a year older, graduated high school, he made the decision to enroll at the community college nearby instead of leaving Harry. It really was a selfless decision; Harry would be lost without him.

The gentle twinkling of the door alerted the employee behind the counter of their arrival, and they called a greeting.

“Niall!” Louis exclaimed.

“Hello, lads, the usual?” Both Harry and Louis nodded, and Niall, who had worked on his days off from classes, scooped their respective ice creams and rang them up. “Four, even.”

“One day, you’ll get fired for giving us your employee discount,” Harry smirked at the blonde. The menu clearly stated that ice cream was three twenty-five, which was ridiculously overpriced, but still worth it to feel the cool, smooth slide of sweetness down their throats each week.

“Ah, Lou won’t rat me out.” Niall shrugged, indifferent. Louis nodded, as if it had been uncertain, and once he passed over a five, telling Niall to keep the change, they walked back out into the sun.

By the time Harry’s house came into view, Louis was sweating. He had no idea how Harry kept up his hipster appearance by wearing jackets all the time. It was _hot_. Louis couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the blast of air conditioning hit his skin when they walked through the front door.

“I’ll get the drinks,” Louis said. Harry mentioned something about changing clothes, but Louis was already making his way through the familiar house towards the kitchen. Ice cream always made them thirsty. He grabbed them each a bottle of water and climbed the stairs to Harry’s room.

“Here!” Louis called, throwing the bottle to his boyfriend. Harry squawked, clearly caught off guard, and fumbled to catch the water. Dark ink contrasted the pale skin of Harry’s left arm, and Louis gasped. “Did you get a tattoo?!”

“What? No.” Harry frowned. Louis was instantly next to him, grasping his arm and turning it over. Several multi-colored butterflies adorned his arm, but upon closer inspection, it was obvious that they were hand-drawn.

“Why do you have butterflies on your arm?” Louis asked Harry, who seemed to falter for a moment.

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are. Did you draw them yourself?” Harry nodded. “Can I?”

“What?”

“Can I draw one?” Harry nodded mutely, and he sat on his bed and leaned over to the table on the opposite side. His shirt inched up just enough to expose his hipbone, and Louis saw what looked to be yet another butterfly there. He smiled. That one looked pink. That didn’t surprise Louis in the slightest; Harry had always used every crayon in school equally, claiming ‘I don’t want them to feel like I like one more than the other.’ He even managed to use the _white_ crayon, much to Louis’ surprise. So, the sight of his boy with a bright pink butterfly on his hip did not shock him. When Harry leaned back, he had a package of permanent markers in his hand.

Louis took his time deciding. He wanted the outline to be black, so he picked that one first. He also tugged out a pretty looking orange color, along with a bright blue.

“Where do you want it?” Louis asked. He eyed the collection of butterflies on Harry’s left arm. They varied in size, and took up nearly all of the visible skin there. Harry cocked his head like he was thinking carefully. He trailed light fingers over the rough material of his jeans and shook his head. Then, he held out his opposite arm, the pale, smooth skin – a blank canvas – staring up at Louis.

Laying down on the bed to get comfortable, Louis spread out his markers and began to draw. His face grew warm under Harry’s weighted gaze, but he tried not to react. He pressed the tip of the black into Harry’s skin, retracting it when it began to bleed almost immediately, creating the illusion that the line wasn’t straight. Softly cursing, Louis thought about the design he was going for.

“If you pull the skin taut, it ble-uh, it-it spreads less.” Harry muttered softly. With the tip from Harry, Louis pushed himself up to his elbows and used his other hand to manipulate the skin of Harry’s inner arm. This time, the marker’s ink stayed right where Louis marked, and he slowly etched the outline of a nicely-sized butterfly under his fingers.

By the time he was finished, it had ended up about half the size of his palm, but it looked amazing. The ones Harry had done were shaky, like they had been done in a rush, but Louis took his time. When he glanced up at Harry to see his reaction, the boy’s eyes were closed. He looked asleep: face even and relaxed.

“Okay?” Louis whispered, trying not to break the moment. Harry’s eyes flew open, and Louis was close enough to see his pupils shrink as he focused on his arm.

“It’s beautiful!” Harry smiled. “I’m going to name him Louis.”

+++

A couple days later, while they were lounging outside under a tree, Louis huffed.

“We should go swimming.” He suggested. It wasn’t completely out of the blue; they went swimming all the time There was a creek outside Louis’ house that flowed for several miles, although ‘swimming’ was a bit of an exaggeration. Louis never went more than hip-deep and he was ‘nearly 5’ 9” thanks!’ Harry, who was now nearly a head taller than him despite being younger, probably wouldn’t even get his shorts wet.

“I don’t want to get my jacket dirty.” Harry frowned. He glanced down at the nice, new jacket his mother had bought him just last week.

“Then take it off, Curly. C’mon!” He jumped up. “I’m going to change. Want to borrow a suit?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. He stood and followed Louis, albeit a bit slower, back into the house, and before long, they were dressed and making their way to Louis’s house.

Harry kept that damned jacket on until they were abandoning Louis’ backpack in his room. Waiting patiently while Harry carefully slipped his arms out of the sleeves, Louis bounced on his toes by the door. When the jacket was draped carefully over the back of Louis’ desk chair, he grabbed Harry’s wrist and tugged him back downstairs.

In the light of the afternoon, Louis almost instantly honed in on the new assortment of butterflies on Harry’s arm. The butterfly that Louis himself had drawn remained alone on his right arm, but it was nearly completely faded. However, there were newer, darker ones on the opposite arm. Louis didn’t comment on them until they were back in his room, feet muddy and still wet from the creek.

He padded up to Harry carrying three permanent markers, nodding towards his arms.

“Can I?” He asked. He had no idea why Harry covered his arm in butterflies, but since it was obviously a recurring thing, Louis thought it was only fitting that there was one to keep _his_ butterfly company. Harry nodded.

After only five minutes, another butterfly sat, inked into Harry’s skin for the next few days. He smiled at the thought, hoping that it would make the curly-haired boy think of him and pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips.

+++

Movie Night. That was the only thing keeping Louis sane right now. His long-standing tradition of marathoning movies with Harry the last Friday of every month was one of the few reasons he was able to make it through this week from hell.

It had started on Tuesday. His Monday had actually been great, and he’d had high hopes going into Tuesday. That is, until he’d spilt his entire cup of tea on his lap on his commute to school. He’d cursed every god he’d ever heard of, frantically trying to sop up the hot liquid as he continued to drive down the interstate. He’d woken up too late to eat breakfast, and now he didn’t even have his morning tea.

Then, on Wednesday, his professor had assigned a group project, but had failed to mention it was due at the end of class, so for nearly thirty minutes, Louis’ group had leisurely made plans to meet the following week, and had mostly been conversing when the teacher had dropped the bomb. Because of that, Louis’ entire group had to scramble to prepare the document they needed to turn in, and had just barely managed to scrape enough information together for a passing grade.

Thursday hadn’t been much better. Louis’ mom had been called in at the last minute to work a shift, which meant that Louis was stuck watching his sisters. That, actually, wasn’t the problem. He _loved_ his sisters. But he’d made plans to skate with Zayn, who was back from school for a three-day weekend. His family was leaving in the morning to go to a family reunion, though, so Louis wasn’t able to see his friend. On top of that, Louis had broken his favorite _Oasis_ CD that morning while he was trying to change it out, and he had nearly cried. Harry had at least been sympathetic to his suffering when he’d messaged him immediately after, offering cuddles during their movie night.

That was Louis’ first breath of relief for the week. Remembering that this Friday was Movie Night made him feel worlds better, and as he stood outside the high school, waiting for Harry, he felt the rain cloud that was his week slowly moving on. As soon as he caught sight of his boyfriend, though, he grinned. He must’ve imagined the sun shining just a bit brighter after that.

They made their way to the ice cream store, catching up on the events of the day. Louis hadn’t seen Harry since Tuesday, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he missed him.

Once they resumed their walk back to Harry’s house, Harry seemed to perk up.

“I have something for you,” He smiled.

“A present? For me?”

“Yeah, but it’s in my room, so you have to wait.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Louis whined. “Why’d you have to get me all excited if you’re just gonna make me wait?”

“It’s called suspense.” Harry grinned. “We talked about it in English today.”

“Fuck English. I wanna know!”

“You will.”

Harry held out until they were settled in his room. The incessant nagging from Louis of ‘What is it? What is it? What is it?’ didn’t faze him. If anything, it made him smile wider. Then, finally, he held out a slim, square object. The wrapping paper was covered in candy canes, which made Louis laugh.

“It’s September, H,” Louis reminded.

“It’s the first one I saw. Got it yesterday, and I needed to wrap it before I went to bed since I knew you’d be coming over straight after school.” Louis waited until Harry was finished talking before he slipped his finger under the perfectly wrapped present. The excitement he got when he opened presents didn’t lessen as he got older. Forgoing the niceties, he ripped the paper off, gasping. It was a new _Oasis_ CD.

“Harry,” Louis breathed. It was an exact copy of the one he’d broken just yesterday, and the thought that Harry had gone out that same day to get this for him made his heart flutter. He glanced up at the boy. “Thank you. I love it.” Harry’s answering grin lit up the whole room, and Louis wrapped his arms around his neck tightly.

Eventually, they moved back downstairs to the couch, where Harry put in _How to Train Your Dragon_. The plan was to marathon all three of them tonight, and then start the tv show the next morning. Both boys settled on opposite ends of the couch with their feet in the middle, a blanket draped over them.

They were still and quiet throughout the first half of the movie, but Harry began to get restless. He threw the blanket off of himself and tugged off his jacket. While he was sitting up, he also tugged his socks off, which is what drew Louis’ eyes to his feet in time to see a now-familiar flash of ink.

“Oh, lemme see!” Louis said. He pulled Harry’s ankle closer, admiring the pointed wings of the butterfly. They were a bit uneven, one side obviously bigger than the other, but it was still beautiful. “What’s this one’s name?” Louis joked.

“Anne,” Harry whispered.

“You named the butterfly after your mother?” Louis cocked his head, then shrugged. “Okay.”

They both settled back in to watch the movie, but for some reason, he couldn’t get his mind off the butterfly. He excused himself to the bathroom, and rifled through Harry’s bedside table until he found the markers.

“Draw one on me,” He told Harry softly, handing him the package. When Harry took the markers, Louis sat down in his previous spot, kicking up a foot onto Harry’s lap. Harry traced the smooth jut of his ankle bone, and Louis shivered.

“Here?” Harry asked softly. Louis nodded. It took a few moments for Harry to pick his colors, eyes darting from the package to Louis’ skin and back a few times before he settled on purple, green, and a pale orange that Louis doubted would show up on his skin.

Harry hunched over, manipulating his foot until the inside of his ankle was exposed. He pulled the cap off the black marker and, pulling Louis’ skin taut, he pressed the tip of the marker to the skin. The drag of the marker was surprisingly nice. It caught every once in a while, when Harry needed to reposition his opposite hand, but the feeling was very calming. When Harry began to color in the design of the wings, Louis allowed himself to look. It was perfect.

Whereas the butterflies on Harry’s arm, and the one on his ankle, were a bit lopsided, this one was perfectly symmetrical. There was no rush to his movements, which made Louis think. _Why did Harry’s butterflies look so…sloppy?_ He remembered Harry saying that he had drawn them, so why did the one he drew on Louis look so different?

He figured it was because he didn’t have the other hand to pull the skin, and he smiled down at it when Harry blew on the ink to dry it, announcing he was finished.

“It’s beautiful.”

+++

He really had meant to ask again, but between Movie Night, and the feast of popcorn and pizza they’d had that night after Anne had gotten home from work, it had slipped Louis’ mind.

However, that next Monday, when they decided to take Louis’ youngest sisters to the waterpark, and his boyfriend had stripped off his jacket to avoid it getting wet, Louis noticed a new addition. As Harry pulled off his jacket, the shirt he had on under slipped up and revealed a dark red butterfly resting in the dip of Harry’s hip. That reminded Louis that he was going to ask Harry about them, but decided that he’d wait until the girls were occupied.

By the time the girls were dragging their feet, ready to go home, Louis had forgotten.

Louis was braiding Daisy’s hair after her bath that night when the butterfly on her barrette reminded him again. This time, he didn’t allow himself to forget. Instead of waiting for Harry, who he knew was also in the shower, he pulled out his phone as soon as he’d tied off his sister’s hair, typing into the search bar ‘why does my friend have butterflies on his arm?’ as he walked to his room. He hit search, and waited.

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up in time to see Lottie poking her head in to say goodnight as she passed his room. When he looked back down at his phone, the results had loaded. He gasped.

**Butterfly Project instead of Self Cutting – Adolescent Self Injury Foundation**

**What is the Butterfly Project? (Self-Harm)**

**The Butterfly Project**

**Why Teenagers Cut Themselves**

Louis felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was no way, _no way_ that this was why Harry was doing this. His vision blurred as the tears grew, and he picked up his phone and dialed Harry’s number. His hands shook as he listened to the line ring, and ring, and ring, and ring.

_Hi! It’s Harry. Leave me a message! Bye._

Louis hung up and called again. The phone rang again, one after another, after another.

 _Hi! It’s Har-_ Louis hung up. He pressed redial, and it rang once before an achingly familiar voice floated through the speakers.

“Christ, Lou. I told you I was showering.” Harry said. He sounded breathless, like he’d run down the hall to get to his phone. Louis opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Now that Harry was on the other end, what should he say? “Louis? You okay?”

“I need you to come over.” Louis rushed out. “Please.”

“Yeah, I-I’ll get dressed and come over now.” Rustling floated down the line as he began tugging clothes on haphazardly. “You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

“I, yeah, I,” Louis swallowed, shaking his head even though Harry couldn’t see him. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Five minutes,” Harry promised. Then the line went dead. He immediately stood and began pacing around the room. What _would_ he say when Harry got here? Would he ask him straight out, or try and get Harry to tell him?

So caught up with what he’d say to his boyfriend, he didn’t hear the front door open and close, nor did he hear the sound of feet climbing the stairs. He didn’t hear anything until a light knock on his door broke him from his thoughts. Louis spun, taking in Harry’s wild, wet hair, and his pink cheeks.

“Why do you draw butterflies on yourself?” Louis blurted. _Straight to it, then_.

“What?” Harry looked shocked. “You had me worried _sick_ Louis! I thought you were _hurt_. You can’t do that.” Louis felt bad for a moment, taking in the anguish on Harry’s face.

“I _am_ hurt!” Louis exclaimed, quieting down when he remembered his sisters had gone to bed.

“Where?”

“Right here.” Louis put his hand over his heart and took a step towards Harry. “The Butterfly Project.” He whispered it, trying to gauge Harry’s reaction as he acknowledged the words. It was like a switch had flipped. Harry shrunk in on himself, and he crossed his arms over his middle. That’s when Louis noticed they were bare. He had been in such a hurry that he hadn’t put on a jacket.

“Please talk to me, H,” Louis begged.

“Y’already know,” Harry muttered ruefully, staring at the floor. “Why do I have to say it?”

“I don’t know everything. Like why. Why do _you_ draw them?” Harry sighed.

“It’s supposed to help you stop.” Came the pitiful reply. Louis beckoned him to the bed, and they sat side by side. With his arms relaxed, Louis could see just the barest traces of the butterflies; Harry hadn’t drawn a new one in a while. From what little he knew about them, Louis recognized that as a good thing.

Or maybe not.

His blood ran cold as Harry’s words hit him.

“ _Supposed_ to?” He echoed.

“The idea behind it is I won’t want to destroy something beautiful. I draw a butterfly, and I name it after someone I love. If I cut before it fades, the butterfly dies.” Harry rubbed his hands over his thighs, wincing.

“Does it help?” Harry shrugged.

“I guess. ‘S not perfect, but if it’s just a small urge, yeah, it chases away the need for a bit.”

“But?” Louis prompted softly.

“Like I said: it’s not perfect. A rough day, or even a passing thought can make me lose myself. Sometimes, it’s like I’m not even in control until after it’s already happened.”

Louis dropped his head into his hands, eyes stinging. He doesn’t know what to do. He should’ve asked his mom for advice before he confronted Harry about it, but it just happened so fast. Ironically, that seemed to be exactly the kind of thing that Harry was describing.

“Can I help?” Louis mumbled into his hands. Harry was quiet for a long time, but the bed didn’t shift, so Louis knew he was still there.

“No, I- no, I don’t think so.” Louis picked his head back up, but almost immediately gasped. There was a bright red spot on the leg of Harry’s pants.

“H,” Louis breathed. Following his line of sight, Harry immediately moved to cover the patch of blood. It was useless; Louis knew exactly what it meant now. He took Harry’s hand and led him into the bathroom. He wordlessly closed the toilet and urged Harry to sit.

Once he’d gathered the antiseptic and multiple bandages, he looked back up at Harry’s face. It was blank.

“Will you take your pants off?” Harry nodded, and slipped them off. Without prompting, he eased up the hem of his boxers where the fabric hid the cuts, and Louis, thankfully, had enough warning and was able to school his face to mask the shock.

The lines were parallel to each other, hardly any space between, and they were fairly long. Louis wasn’t sure what was ‘normal,’ or even if there was a normal, but they looked to be about the length of his fingers. He estimated there were at least ten, maybe fifteen.

“Oh, baby,” He whispered sadly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting this much?”

Without waiting for an answer, he carefully cleaned the skin with a damp cloth. He dabbed at the skin until the dried blood was gone, and he smeared an antibacterial ointment over the raised lines to reduce the risk of infection. Once he was satisfied, he pressed a clean gauze pad over them and taped it down securely.

Reaching out a hand to help Harry stand, he led them both back to his bed and gave him some clean boxers and pants to change into and a few minutes of privacy to change while he went to get them both some water.

Harry was standing, holding the dirty clothes, when he got back. He was only in the boxers, the white bandage glaringly obvious under the black fabric. Louis took the bloody clothes easily and threw them into the mound of dirty laundry he had collected, leading Harry to his bed without fuss. They both laid down on top of the sheets before Louis had an idea. He jumped up to rifle through his desk before coming back with a marker. Laying down, he uncapped the marker and began to draw.

When he was finished, he chanced a glance up to Harry, who was smiling softly at the newest butterfly.

“Louis,” Harry whispered.

“Yes, love?”

“No, the butterfly.”

“I want to name this one, if that’s okay?” Harry nodded. “His name is Harry.”

“Lou-”

“I’m naming this butterfly after someone _I_ love. Someone who is strong and resilient and beautiful and brave. Harry, you’re amazing. I will tell you that until you believe it, and then I’ll keep telling you, because you are. You mean so much to me.”

Very quickly, Louis drew another, smaller butterfly beside Butterfly-Harry.

“That one can be Louis,” He declared. “That way, Harry will never be alone, and he always has someone if he needs them.”

Harry stared at the two butterflies in awe, the realization hitting him soon after.

“Lou, they won’t fade.” He thumbed over the drawings, permanently marked into the tape securing the bandage to his thigh.

“You can use the tape as many times as you want. If it ever loses its stickiness, I’ll come draw them again. You’re going to get through this, love,” Louis promised. “And I promise, I’ll be here the whole time.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I can’t actually draw butterflies on my arm, but after reading a fairly-triggering fic, I thought 'the next best thing is to write it out', and so I did. I’m happy to say it helped, and now it’s time for bed. Night!


End file.
